For Want of a Nail
by mimi932
Summary: A disagreement between Jim and Blair has far reaching consequences


Title : For Want of a Nail  
Author: Mimi  
Summary: A disagreement between Jim and Blair has far reaching consequences.

The silence inside the truck was deafening. James Ellison and Blair Sandburg  
were both convinced that they were right and the other one wrong. Neither was  
likely to give in and it was almost a given that at some point in the near future  
the words, "dammit Sandburg" and "Ellison, you are such a hardass." were going  
to be tossed across the interior of the vehicle. The argument between the two  
had raged all day, only cooling when they were apart. Now in the small confines  
of the vehicle it loomed almost like a monster threatening to envelope both men.

"Dammit Sandburg, how can you sit there and tell me that you truly believe that  
crap that they're trying to feed us? We know that the guns were taken from the  
shipment while Rogers was on security detail and no one else had access to the  
control room. Whoever turned the closed circuit off had to be able to access the  
room, or bypass the system and there's no evidence of that."

"Ellison you are such a hardass! That man, did not, REPEAT, did not have anything  
to do with the theft of those guns. He's just not mentally capable of it, I can  
tell. Didn't you see his reactions? Surely you don't truly believe he's involved?"

Ellison steered the truck into the first parking place and got out. Blair fumbled with

the door latch for several minutes while Jim stood watching.

"Chief, give it up, slide over. The damn thing is still stuck." Blair looked at  
him and began to slide across the seat the whole time continuing to argue his  
case. Blair stepped to the ground and stood facing Jim. He began anew to try and  
convince the detective that the young man they were investigating as a suspect  
in the theft of a shipment of guns to a local sporting goods store was innocent.

Ellison braced himself against the cab of the truck, his right had resting on  
the doorpost the other wiping his face, as if that action would wipe away some  
of the tension he felt. Blair stood in the opening between the truck and the  
truck door gesturing wildly trying to make some headway with the older man.

"Jim, I'm right on this, I know it and if you would just be honest and not be  
such a caveman about this you'd see it." He pushed past Jim and slammed the  
door. Blair began to storm across the parking lot, but only two steps away he  
heard a muffled groan that was obviously coming from the detective. He turned  
and looked, horrified at the sight that met him. Blair's abrupt actions had  
caught the tired detective unawares and he now stood staring at his right hand  
which was caught in the closed door of the truck.

"Jim, man I am so sorry, hold on, let me get it open, oh man I can't believe  
this. Are you all right? Oh my god, what did I do? Man I am such as dweeb..."

Blair was talked he was rushed back to the truck to free Jim's hand.  
Ellison stood staring at his hand which was tightly jammed in the door of the  
vehicle. Blair reached the door handle and jerked it open freeing Jim's hand.  
The injured fingers had already begun to turn an alarming shade of red, tinged

with blue, and seemed to be headed towards a violent shade of purple.  
Ellison continued to stare, unblinking, towards the door jamb of the truck.

"Jim, come on man, this is no time to zone, please, please, just snap out of it."

His pushed the near hysteria to the back of his mind, promising to release it as

soon as he got Ellison settled in the safe hands of medical personnel. After

several seconds the older man refocused his glazed eyes and looked first at

Sandburg, then at his swelling fingers.

"Jim, come on get in the truck and I'll take you to the ER."

"No, Sandburg, I'll be fine, let's just get inside where I can soak it in some  
cold water."

Blair wanted to argue, but thought that the sooner he could get them inside the  
quicker he could get a really good look at the damage done to his partner's  
hand.

Rushing as much as he could, Blair tried to steer Ellison up the stairs, finally  
Jim turned, "Blair, relax, it's not that bad, just calm down. It's going to be fine,

just let me get to the loft and take care of it, all right?"

After what seemed like an eternity they entered the loft. Jim went straight to the kitchen and turned on the cold water. Sticking his hand into the stream of cold water was at first painful, but within seconds it caused a chilled numbness that was a welcome relief from the throbbing pain that had taken hold of the man. Ellison stood there for

several minutes with his eyes closed, "Sandburg, quit hovering."

"I'm not hovering," the dark haired man replied.

"Yes, you are, I can feel you breathing on me, go away."

"Look, Jim, man, I am so sorry, I don't know, I just, man I don't know what to even say."

"Sandburg, for the last time, don't say anything, just leave me alone, or better yet, get me…"

"I know, a bag of peas, coming up."

Ellison opened his eyes, which were filled with unshed tears of pain, and watched the young grad student as he dug into the freezer before coming up with the peas that would soon be wrapped around his throbbing hand.

"Here man," the dark haired young pushed the plastic bag filled with peas towards the still quiet detective.

Sensing that the sentinel was ready to launch into another of his list of reasons why the building security guard was at the top of the list of suspects Blair began to ease his way to his room.

"You're not getting off that easy Sandburg. We'll take this conversation up  
tomorrow morning." Ellison remarked .

"Are you sure you're all right? I mean, that looks pretty bad."

"No, it'll be fine; it's just hurting right now, after a while it'll feel better. I'm going to call it a night. What time is your first class tomorrow?"

"Eight o' clock, then I'll be at my office till a one o' clock class and back to the office till about 3:30 and I'll head to the PD."

Ellison nodded his head and started up the stairs to his room.

Sandburg slept fitfully that night, dreams invaded his sleep, dreams that he couldn't remember, except that he knew that they were unpleasant. The dreams left him feeling slightly ill at ease and unrested. He breezed through his eight o' clock lecture, going so far as to dismiss class fifteen minutes early. Rushing to his office he dialed up Major Crimes to check on the progress of the investigation and more importantly his partner.

"Hello, you've reached the desk of Detective Jim Ellison, I'm not in; however if you leave your name, number and a brief message and I'll get back to you. If this is an emergency ..."

Not waiting for the rest of the announcement Blair hung up the phone and re-dialed, this time punching in Simon's extension when prompted.

"Banks"

"Simon, I'm trying to reach Jim, is he around?"

"No, he's following up on a lead on the sporting goods burglary." Banks explained to Blair that Jim had come in an about ten minutes earlier and said he was going to meet a confidential informant who might have something on the burglary. Blair listened and quickly ran through Jim's list of CI's trying to figure out which one it would have been.

"All right, if you hear from him tell him to call me."

"Sure thing, Sandburg." Banks was about to hang up when he heard Blair speak  
again.

"Simon, how's his hand?"

"What, what about his hand?" the commander of the division asked.

"I guess it must be all right then if he didn't mention it. I accidentally slammed it in the truck door last night.

"Well he didn't say anything about it Sandburg."

The two ended the conversation and Blair went back to his class notes. As usual he was buried in them within minutes, not noticing as the minutes ticked by and turned into hours. When he looked up it was almost time for him to head to his next class, but before leaving he tried Ellison's number one more time. Again he got the voice mail, this time he left a message telling Jim to call him when he  
got back. Sandburg grabbed his backpack and headed up to the first floor where his last class of the day was about to start

On the other side of Cascade James Ellison was deep into planning a buy/bust to take place shortly on the stolen weapons. The snitch he'd met with earlier in the day had come with information that the seller wanted to make a quick deal and head out of the country. It seemed that the original sale had fallen through and now the seller just wanted to dump the weapons and run. Ellison and the  
Cascade PD would be happy to oblige him. So now, the CI was finalizing the deal while Ellison and his back up listened. No one observed Jim Ellison pumping his right hand, clenching and unclenching his fist, trying to work it loose. Unconsciously attempting to work away some of the pain. Looking at the swollen fingers he took his left hand and tried to straighten the fingers on the right, but the pain was more than he wanted to deal with right now. He had more important matters to be concerned with. After hanging up the phone, Hal Anderson gave Ellison a thumbs up indicating that the plan was a go. Connor, Rafe and Brown and the five officers from Burglary were all waiting to get into position. Outside Joel and Technical Surveillance Officer Andy Whitman checked the electronics equipment  
needed for the buy bust. Whitman was well thought of in the department and Joel Brown liked working with the young man. He was a fanatic about the gear signed out to him and was extremely precautious knowing that his equipment was all that stood between the undercover officer and his back up. If that equipment should fail, it could very likely mean the officer's life.

Right now Andy Whitman was nervous; it was not a normal adrenaline pump that all  
officers experience before going into a tight situation, it was a forecasting of doom, it a was a heavy pall around him, almost choking him. Looking at the older detective Whitman asked Joel if he ever got "feelings",

"You know Joel, like maybe something's just not right?"

"Andy, are you saying you think something's wrong with the equipment?" asked Brown.

"No Joel, it's not that. I've checked and rechecked and checked my recheck. The batteries are new, the wires are intact, the frequency has been cleared, the transmitter is working fine, everything is fine. I've just got this bad feeling."

Joel looked at the younger man and wished that there was some way to call off the buy, but

it had gone too far. Joel had been an officer long enough to know that "gut feelings" were what

kept a lot of officers alive and Andy Whitman had a gut feeling about this deal, then they all needed

to be on their toes. The door to the surveillance van opened abruptly and Jim Ellison folded his six foot  
plus frame into the area. While the van was spacious, it was not designed for three officers, more like two and usually one of them was in the driver's seat.

Whitman and Brown looked at Jim and asked if it was a go. Ellison nodded and began to slip off his shirt. Whitman busied himself getting the surgical tape they would use to tape the microphone and antenna to Ellison. Joel watched trying to think of a way to approach the officer with Whitman's misgivings.

"Jim, are you sure this is a good thing? I mean it's such short notice and all, you know we usually have more time. You sure you don't want to wait on Hairboy?"

"I know, but if we can't pass on it and Hal thinks this guy will roll on some other dealers. We need to make this bust and this is the only way we can do it."

Joel again glanced at the detective whom he'd come to admire and respect since being assigned to Major Crimes. He hadn't known Jim Ellison well before coming to the section, but did know of his reputation. From all that he knew Ellison had been a solitary person, had few, if any friends, and failed marriage. If reports were correct he had his own chair in the outer office of Internal Affairs. It  
was rumored that if Ellison left the department any time soon he'd owe them time, as he'd been suspended so many times. But Joel had only seen glimpses of the old Jim Ellison. PBS, as Rafe called it, Pre Blair Sandburg. Ellison was still a hell of a cop, but he had softened around the edges. He wasn't quite the John Wayne that he used to be. And he had softened in the middle also, right around his  
heart.

"Jim, Andy's got a bad feeling, right Andy?"

"Um, yeah, sort of, I guess you don't, .. oh never mind, it's just" the younger man was very uncomfortable talking about this with Ellison. After all, James Ellison was a legend. Andy Whitman was guilty of just a little hero worship and didn't want his hero to think he was scared.

"That right Whitman?" Ellison asked the young cop.

Andy looked into the older man's eyes trying to determine where the conversation was going. Was Ellison going to laugh at him or take it seriously?

"Yes, yes it is and it's not the equipment, at least I can't find anything wrong  
with it, but everything just feels a little bit off... "

Ellison gazed out the blackened rear window of the van and without looking back at the other occupants softly whispered, "Yes, I know."

Reaching for his cell phone with his right hand he picked it out of his coat pocket only to drop it on the floor of the van. Both he and Joel reached for it at the same time. As Joel reached out he accidentally bumped Jim's right hand, seeing the man wince, he looked up at the detective, a question in his eyes.

"You don't want to know, Joel, trust me on this."

Joel shrugged and leaned back. Picking up a pad of papers he began to prepare a surveillance log, noting the time, location and weather condition. Jim dialed Blair's office at the university listening to it ring. Ellison counted the rings, knowing that by five Sandburg's voice mail would pick up, indicating the grad student either was not there or he was so immersed in his current activity he didn't hear the phone. Disconnecting he dialed the loft. After the second ring the answering machine picked up. He smiled a slight smile when he heard the voice of his best friend and roommate,

"Hey, you've missed us, but leave your name and number and we'll get back with you."

"Blair, buddy, look, something's going down, I tried to reach you at your office but you weren't in so I thought I'd leave you a message. Um, I shouldn't be too late tonight, maybe by seven, so if you don't mind how about fixing dinner? Uh, look, chief, I don't really know, well I do, what I was going to say is I'm not sure why I called I just needed to tell you a few things, nothing major, just, well, this is, I'll just talk to you when I get home. Man, I rambling on here. Well I gotta go get wired and get this thing done. I'll see you tonight."

Ellison paused trying to collect his thoughts, trying to pin point the exact words before continuing.

"Chief, man, this has been one hell of a ride. I want you to know…" _BEEP_, the answering machine clicked off. Damn, Ellison thought, and then shuddered as if a rabbit had run across his grave.

At Ranier University Blair Sandburg sat in the back row listening to one of his students give a short commentary on aborigines and the cultural invasion by television reality shows. A shiver chased across his shoulders and as he looked out the window he saw the shadows moving to cover the sun, hiding it behind the looming dark clouds.

Inside the surveillance van Ellison was pulling up his pants after hiding the transmitter, Whitman began to tape the wires to the detective's body; the antenna going up his left side up his back almost to the top of his shoulder. The microphone wire ran up his left leg across his stomach and up before being  
taped to the center of his chest. Pulling his shirt on Jim told Whitman he'd go do a test count and then do a leader on the tape. Stepping from the back of the van out into the alley he walked several steps away and counted. Ellison saw the brake lights flash off and on twice the signal that his equipment was working properly. He began his lead, "This is Detective Jim Ellison with the Cascade Police Department. Today's date is October 28, 2001 and the time is 2:14 PM. This will be an undercover operation in an attempt to purchase a shipment of stolen weapons from an individual believed to be Kevin Beals. The subject has not been positively identified. End of lead. Tape off."

Once again Ellison observed the flash of the brake lights on the van. Looking around he spoke  
again, knowing that Whitman would relay the message to the waiting take down teams,

"Let's get in place boys and girls. No body moves until I give the take down signal. Andy reminds them of that, when I take off my cap I'll give them a few seconds to get geared up and then I'll give the signal."

Andy relayed the message to the teams and reminded them that "Let's rock and  
roll" was the take down sign.

Jim quickly moved through the warehouse to the front of the building where he met up with the informant. They both stood gazing towards the entrance to the industrial park where the meeting would occur. Hal didn't seem particularly nervous, which relaxed Jim a fraction. If the informant was straight he wouldn't be in too bad shape, but if it was a scam or double cross the CI should be  
rocking right about now. Since he wasn't acting overly nervous Jim eased up on his monitoring of the man.

"He's here. "That's all it took to set the wheels in motion. Hal Anderson continued to peer  
off towards the front gate, but didn't see anything; finally the truck came into view. Anderson looked at Ellison and just shrugged wondering how he knew that the seller was there. As the large truck rolled up to them Ellison scanned the area hearing only one new heartbeat. He visibly relaxed another fraction.

In the newly arrived truck Kevin Beals checked his earpiece to make sure it was in place. Working alone like he did, he always relied on electronic partners. In his truck was an array of electronic equipment, including a several scanners and an RF detector. The earpiece which was tuned to the scanner bank would monitor any channel frequency that transmitted within a mile range of his antenna. He  
clambered out of the vehicle and approached with a cautious smile on his face.

"You Edwards?" he asked thrusting his chin towards Jim.

"Yeah, and you are?"

"The man who is fixin' to make you very happy. Hal, how are you doing, it's been a while, didn't recognize you at first."

The informant smiled and greeted Beals with a handshake, relaxing now that the  
first movement had been made.

"Jim, man this is Kevin."

Ellison extended his hand and grasped the other man's briefly. He observed the earpiece and did a quick scan of the area. He didn't see anyone else, but there was a constant hum that had him worried. He hadn't detected it until the dealer had arrived, but it had gained in intensity and then leveled out after the dealer got out of his vehicle. Ellison was beginning to think that Andy Whitman  
was more on the mark than he'd originally thought.

"Well, let's get down to business, you got my money?"

Brought back to the moment Ellison looked at the smug dealer and motioned him to the inside of the warehouse, "It's in here, just pull your truck in and we'll off load with the forklift, won't take as long that way."

Beals returned to his vehicle and started it up. Backing through the now opened garage door he parked his truck just inside the building enough that the door could be closed keeping any passersby from observing the transaction, and also, unknown to the thief, keeping him from making an exit. The CI started the small forklift and began to off load the cases from one vehicle to another. Ellison opened each case and inspected the cache, reclosed the lids and approved the transfer. Beals counted the money while the operation wound down.

"It's all here." the arms dealer proclaimed.

Ellison almost growled at the man until he realized that this man didn't know him, didn't know he was honest to fault. As far as Kevin Beals was concerned Jim Edwards was just a dirty as the lowest slug, just like himself. Ellison quickly recovered and pasted a fake smile on his face.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you. Maybe we can do it again  
sometime." Beals told the officer.

Ellison just grinned, pulled his cap from his head with his left hand, leaving his gun hand free,

"Yeah, right, maybe in the future we can."

He turned and looked at the informant and said "Let's rock and roll." The take down teams as quickly as possible rushed from their hiding places, but their best was not good enough, not fast enough and it would cost Jim Ellison dearly.

Kevin Beals heard the command given as it played across the scanner and fed through the earpiece. His brain processed the information and he correctly arrived at the conclusion that he was fucked. The big man was a cop and he was about to arrest him and send him to prison forever. Kevin Beals would rather die than let that happen, but he was not going down without a fight. He quickly pulled the 9mm Beretta that he always carried. As he listened to the rush of officers converging on his position, he saw only one target, the big man with the steel blue eyes. Bringing the gun up on target he saw the detective pulling his weapon. Several things happened simultaneously. Andy Whitman began to pray  
as he raced into the warehouse, Megan Connor yelled for Jim to look out and Jim Ellison tried desperately to wrap his swollen, stiff fingers around his weapon and fit his trigger finger into the trigger guard, and last but most important Kevin Beals fired his weapon. A second later Henri Brown double tapped his gun and dropped the arms dealer where he stood. As the teams quickly rushed where both men lay Megan shouted orders for an ambulance and a supervisor. Kneeling  
beside the downed officer she was unmindful of the blood soaking into the knees  
of her khaki pants.

"Beals is dead, 47's on its way and dispatch is calling Simon."

She wasn't sure whose voice it was, it didn't register. The only thing that held her attention was the growing pool of blood on the concrete floor and the pallor of Jim Ellison's face.

"Get me a blanket" she said only to be handed one before the words were fully out of her mouth. Quickly she spread it over him leaving the wound uncovered. Ripping off her shirt she bunched it up and pressed on it into the wound trying to staunch the flow of blood. Everyone was trying to help even if that just meant staying out of the way. A uniformed officer arrived took one look at the  
scene and rushed to his patrol unit. He raced back into the warehouse with a  
purple box in hand and pushed it towards Connor.

"Here, use these." he told the shaking Connor

Connor's line of vision with Ellison was cut off by the purple box. She snatched one of the items inside and pressed it against the wound. The sanitary napkin was replaced with another one and then another one, each discarded to the floor after its use.

"Come on Jim, stay with me. DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

Tears began to stream down her face. Rafe placed a hand on her should and knelt down trying to get her to relinquish her position to him. In the distance the sound of sirens could be heard, closing quickly on their location. One of them proved to be the ambulance. The two EMT's rushed into the warehouse to the knot of people all crouched about the bleeding cop. Seeing the discarded sanitary napkins and the pool of blood they knew it was bad. The female EMT commented on the use of the napkins as bandages. The flame faced officer said it was his wife's idea and she made him carry a box in his patrol car at all times.

Connor stood gazing down at the site, watching, listening, yet not seeing or hearing. In her own zone out, replaying that awful moment, swearing that she could see the bullet leave Beal's weapon and hurtle through the air before it ripped into Jim Ellison's chest. Joel approached her removing his jacket he wrapped it around her. She hadn't noticed that she stood there uncovered, wearing only her bra and the now bloodied khakis, hadn't remembered ripping the buttons from her shirt trying to get it off to use as a bandage for the gaping hole in Ellison's chest.

"Megan, why don't you go to the hospital with Jim, I'll wait here for Simon and then we'll be down." Waiting for a response, Joel looked into the tear stained face of the female officer, seeing the depth of the pain, he offered her a comforting hug and then pushed her towards the back of the ambulance. The EMT in the back hurried her in and Joel slammed the doors shut. Tapping the back door  
strongly to let them know it was shut he then turned back to survey the now bustling scene.

The ambulance tore out of the warehouse area running wide open. Not far from the scene it passed a car running just as fast in the opposite direction. The silver Crown Victoria bearing Captain Simon Banks was rushing to the scene to find out the status of his team. The only message he'd received  
from dispatch was that they had received a 10-34 call, officer down, code blue at the warehouse from Det. Henri Brown and that they were calling for a 10-47 and a supervisor. Rushing from the office he had told Rhonda where he was heading and that he' be on his cell phone.

Grinding to a halt he rushed into the warehouse. Finding the OIC he logged in his entry to the crime scene and was met by Rafe, Henri and Joel.  
Spying the pool of blood on the concrete floor Banks looked to his ragged team,

"Not Connor, don't tell me that Joel." Joel shook his head and looked down.

Banks cleared his throat, "Jim?"

All three detectives stood quietly, Joel nodded in answer to Simon's question,  
knowing what would come next he spoke up, "It didn't look good Simon, it was a  
chest wound. He was unconscious the whole time, never came to, which is  
probably a blessing. But he was alive when they left."

"What in the hell went wrong?" the angry voice of the Captain boomed  
through the hollow building. For just a moment all activity stopped. After a few seconds the  
officers around the warehouse went back to their assignments, knowing that Banks was dealing  
with it as best he could.

Andy Whitman stepped forward, "Captain, it looks like Beals had a couple of scanners in his truck and was listening to them through an earpiece. Evidently when I gave the command to go, he heard it and took Jim out before we could react."

Banks continued to stand in the middle of the furious activity, head down staring at  
the darkened pool of drying blood.

"Joel, you're with me. Let's go get the kid and then go over to Jim's dad's house. I want to get there before the news media gets hold of this."

Leaving Rafe and Henri to assist the shooting team in the investigation, Simon and Joel began the silent journey to Ranier. Parking in front of the building that housed Blair's office, Simon ignored the no parking sign and exited his vehicle, glancing over his shoulder he met the tired eyes of Taggert and saw the dread of the upcoming meeting that would follow their entry into the building.  
They took the stairs to the basement, reaching Sandburg's office much more quickly then they'd  
hoped. The door stood slightly ajar indicating that Blair was in, voices through the partially opened doorway confirmed his presence. A slight tap on the door and Simon pushed on through oblivious to the other person in the room with Blair. A wide smile flashed across the grad student's face as he looked up at Banks. Just as quickly as it came, it went, replaced by a question and then an answer and then another question. The other occupant realizing that she was no longer a part of the  
conversation stood and began to walk out, tossing an, "I'll catch you later" at Sandburg as she slipped past the two police officers.

"Simon, just tell me he's alive."

"He is. Come on I'll fill you in on the way to get his dad."

"It's that bad?" Blair asked, tears filling his eyes as his hand raked through his already unkempt hair.

Joel and Simon looked at each other and then back at the worried student.

"Yes, it's that bad." Banks replied.

Heading out the door and up the stairs following the two officers Blair tried desperately to bring his breathing under control, but nothing was working. His breath came in short gasps and he tripped on the stairs. His vision blurred by the unshed tears which threatened to spill from his dark blue eyes.  
The drive to William Ellison's house was made quickly. Simon didn't run emergency traffic, but he wouldn't have won any awards for defensive driving that day. Sliding to a stop in front of the two story white mansion Simon motioned for Blair and Joel to wait in the car. Ringing the doorbell he tried to  
prepare himself to face the estranged father of his best detective. His best detective, he almost  
laughed. Jim was much more than that, he was one of his dearest friends, had stood as mentor to Simon's son Darryl and one of the few people with whom Simon felt truly comfortable. The door was opened and the face that met Simon was not the face of the small oriental woman, Sally, who kept house for William Ellison. It was Jim's dark haired brother, Stephen. Almost with relief Simon smiled  
at the man.  
"Steve, I'm so glad you're here."

Sensing the tension surrounding Simon, Stephen motioned for him to enter.

"Steve, where's your dad?"

"In the study, why? Simon, what's going on?"

Knowing deep in his heart that it could only be bad news Stephen Ellison reached  
for Simon's arm as if trying to wrest the news from him. Both men stopped upon hearing a noise from the doorway to the study. Looking into the eyes of William Ellison, Simon saw the fear that every father knows when his child is hurt and the realization hit him that no matter what William Ellison had  
done to his sons, he had done it out of love. William Ellison loved his sons as much as Simon loved Darryl, enough that he would lie down and die for him.

"Take me to him." the older Ellison spoke at last, looking first at Simon and then Stephen. Simon nodded and went back towards the front door.

"I'll get my car dad, we'll take it." Stephen hurriedly left out the back of the house  
leaving Simon and William alone.

"Am I losing him again Captain?"

"I don't know, I just know we need to get there quickly. Tell Stephen to stay close with me, don't stop for anything."

The two men left out the door. Simon rushed to open the door of Stephen's car for Mr. Ellison. He quickly strode to his car and drove off, leaving several hundred miles worth of rubber in the front drive. Glancing in the rear view mirror he saw a grim faced Stephen Ellison close on his rear bumper.

The silence was broken by the radio dispatcher calling Simon.  
"901, go ahead."

"901, 932 is requesting ETA to the ER."

"10-4, tell him ETA 8 minutes"

"901, 932 advises you need to make it 10-33 traffic."

"10-4"

Flipping on his lights and siren Simon shuddered as he looked to his right and saw the white face of the young observer. Looking in his rear view mirror he and Joel exchanged worried glances, knowing that nothing good could be happening at the hospital now. Behind him Stephen began to pray, it was all he could do now, pray and drive and hope that there was really a light at the end of the darkness. His  
father sat stone-faced staring straight ahead, not moving, not feeling, lost in the perusal of memories long ago buried. The dread of knowing and not knowing; living a shallow life for eighteen months thinking that his oldest son was lying unburied in a forest in Peru only to be resurrected.

He'd never told Jimmy how much he loved him, never hugged him or touched him much at all.  
Truth be known, he was afraid of him, of what he was. So the elder Ellison had pushed him away, loving him, but fearing him; afraid of losing him, but not knowing what to do with him. He wondered if life had dealt his son another second premature death. And then he joined Stephen in his prayers.

Pulling to halt in the ER parking lot both cars emptied. Blair, who had been unnaturally quiet for so long, now stormed through the doors searching for someone who could take him to his friend. Simon and Joel were followed closely by William and Stephen. They spilled into the waiting area. Simon strode to the desk and informed the duty nurse that Jim's family was with him. She quietly told him that  
they were still trying to stabilize him for the surgery he so desperately needed. As Simon headed to the now filled waiting area where the others were Megan Connor came through the double doors of the treatment area. She was clad in surgical scrubs and had a vacant look in her eyes. Spotting the tall captain she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him and began to sob. Fearing  
the worst, Blair lurched forward out of his seat, grabbed her and spun her around to face him,  
"What is it? Tell me Megan, he's all right isn't he? Tell me dammit, quit crying  
and tell me!"

"Oh Sandy, they wouldn't let me see him, but I could hear everything  
going on, his heart stopped and they had to shock him. Sandy I'm so scared."

Once again she began to sob, only this time she reached out for the observer, just  
needing someone to feel the pain with her and she knew if anyone would hurt, it would  
be Blair Sandburg.  
As the hours ticked by the group grew in size as many of the officers of Cascade heard about  
the shooting and came to stand by for one of their own. Some gave blood, others went to the chapel to pray, but each contributed what they could, they all gave something even if it was only a kind word to the family.

A little after 9:00pm the surgeon called down for the Ellison family, saying that he would meet with them in the surgical waiting room on the fourth floor. William Ellison rose with the help of his son and started down the hall to the elevator. He took several steps before turning to Simon and Blair, "I'd like for you two to come along. Blair I know Jimmy thinks of you as family and Simon I'm sure he'd want  
you to hear this with us."

So the four men trudged wearily to the elevator lobby. The ding of the elevator announced their arrival on the fourth floor. Stopping in front of the door to the family waiting room the each gathered up what little strength they had to face what news was about to be imparted.

"I'm Doctor Frank Albemarle. I'm the lead surgeon on the team handling your son's injuries."

Each of the individuals present introduced themselves in turn. The doctor continued on, advising them on the extent of the injuries the detective had suffered.

"Your son is a very lucky man Mr. Ellison. That wound could have been fatal, but right now I'd say it looks like he'll recover."

A collective sigh went up from the group. Simon noticed that sometime during the doctor's speech William Ellison had reached over and taken the hands of his son and Blair and now sat holding onto them as if they were his anchors. Albemarle continued and catalogued the damage done by the lead  
projectile.

"It was a through and through wound, and caused a lot of damage, but nothing we couldn't  
repair. There was a major blood loss, but we think we have it all under control. We're going to send him to ICU and monitor him closely. Right now he's still in recovery, but we'll be moving him shortly. Oh, and the injury to his hand is going to require some surgery, but we'll put that off for a while. We'll need to wait till the swelling goes down and he's able to tolerate the surgery. It looks like it happened a day or so ago, and isn't the result of the shooting. We've wrapped it to keep it immobilized and elevated it to help with the swelling."

At this pronouncement Blair gasped aloud, "His hand, you mean his right hand?"

"Yes, he must have injured it sometime earlier. It's nothing major though. I assure you Det. Ellison has much more serious injuries to be concerned with. And this injury to his hand won't permanently affect him. I assume that he's right handed so he won't be able to shoot until it's repaired, but we don't anticipate any permanent disability. I can't imagine why he wasn't on light duty though with the extent of the swelling. Anyway, I have to get started on my patient rounds. I'll check back before leaving the hospital for the night. Are there any questions?"

He stood to leave the group. Stephen and William walked out with the doctor leaving Blair and Simon alone in the room. Blair stood gazing distractedly off into the darkened hallway. Simon softly approached and reached out to squeeze Blair's shoulder.

"Don't worry Sandburg. he's going to be fine."

"Simon, I did this to him. It was me and my damned temper. I'm what caused this."

"Blair, that's nonsense, how could you be the cause of this? Jim knew what he was  
doing."

"You don't understand. It's his hand; I slammed the truck door on his hand yesterday. We were arguing and I got mad and slammed the damn door on it. That's why he couldn't shoot. His hand was too swollen, he couldn't pull the trigger. I've been trying to call him all day and see how it was,  
but I could never get him."

"Sandburg why didn't you tell me, Jim shouldn't have been working in the field if he wasn't fit for duty. Why didn't he tell me?"

"Good grief Simon, you know Jim well enough to know that if he cut his hand off he wouldn't admit to not being fit for duty. I should have done something. This is my entire fault."

Simon looked a the young man who stood before him wracked with guilt and knew that at this moment in time there was nothing that he could say or do to convince the man otherwise. Best to wait and let Ellison handle, when and if he recovered.

Returning to the others Simon relayed the news from the doctor. The crowd dwindled till there was only the group from Major Crimes present. Simon ordered them all home saying he'd call if there was a change in Jim's condition.

Stephen had taken his father home and told Simon and Blair that he'd return after he had his dad settled in at home. The elder Ellison hated to leave but knew that he needed the rest where he could be there the next day. Simon and Blair waited, but quiet. Blair was in an almost palpable grief thinking that he could have inadvertently caused his best friend's death. Simon sat pondering the young man,  
trying to find some way to console him. Around 2:00 am a nurse came into the waiting room, she approached the two sleeping men and softly shook Simon by the shoulder.

"Excuse me, but are you with Mr. Ellison?"

"Wha, yes," said Simon groggily trying to rouse himself.

"It's 2:00 visiting time and I thought you might want to sit with him for a few minutes. If you like I'll take the two of you back."

"Sure." Simon reached over and shook Blair awake telling him what the nurse had said. Blair looked at Simon and Simon read fear deep in his eyes.  
"Come on, kid let's go see him, it'll be all right, you'll see."

"Simon," it was a whisper, or maybe just his voice cracked, but there was no strength in the sound. "Simon, I don't know if I can. I don't think I can see him like this and know that I'm to blame."

Banks was unsure what steps to take. The wrong direction could do more damage than good and Blair and Jim both had been damaged this day.

"Come on kid, do it for him."

Catching up to the nurse, they followed her to the cubicle where Ellison lay. The lights had been dimmed and the monitors silenced, it was as peaceful as an ICU floor could be. Spying Jim for the first time both Blair and Simon were aghast at the figure that lay before them on the bed. Larger than life Jim Ellison lay on the bed pale and fragile looking. He was swathed in bandages and there was a  
tube draining bloody fluids from his chest. Blair stood a few feet away from the side of the bed,  
lost in the starkness of the site before him. He looked up at Simon, who turned and walked out knowing that this moment was just for Blair and Jim and that by staying he would be trespassing on their friendship.

Blair walked over to the bed and cautiously reached out to touch Jim's right arm. The warmth of his skin was in contrast to the cold lifeless look of the man and while comforting it was almost confusing. But Blair held on as if by doing so he could hold on to Jim Ellison and pull him back to the here and now. At first he thought he imagined the soft rustling noise, but then he felt the movement heralding the awakening of the Sentinel. The tightening of the muscles in his arm was followed by the minute movement of his legs under the sheets and then the flutter of his lashes and then he came awake.

Batting his eyes he tried to keep them open, but it was as if they were weighted they continued to close. Finally, the drug induced sleep lifted enough so that blue eyes met blue eyes.

"What happened?"

"You were shot, the deal went south, evidently there was a scanner in the truck and Beals was monitoring it."

"The buzz, hat explains it. How bad?" asked the pale officer.

"Bad enough, doc says you'll be okay." A short silence and then a plaintive,

"Jim, why didn't you tell Simon?"

"Tell him what?"

"About your hand…" Blair watched him closely wanting to read the truth in Jim's eyes.

"My hand? Oh, my hand. Just didn't seem important at the time. Guess it never occurred to me."

Seeing Blair's eyes and trying to comprehend the look on his face Jim guessed that there was more going on than he could process now in his drugged state.

"Look buddy, everything's fine, don't worry."

"But Jim, I could have gotten you killed. I can't believe I did that, it was so careless of me."

"Hey, but you were right. That guard didn't have anything to do with the theft. He  
was innocent that should be some consolation. Besides who would have thought  
something as minor as swollen fingers would lead to something like this? It would  
almost be funny, if I wasn't laying here in this hospital bed hurting like hell."

At this Blair reached to press the call button for the nurse, but stopped as Jim reached over with his left hand and grabbed onto Blair's hand.

"It's all right, we're all right. Unpack your bags; you're not taking a guilt trip because of this."

"Jim I just keep thinking, `for want of a nail' "

"Huh, what are you talking about Sandburg. I know they've got me on drugs, but what the hell are you talking about?"

"You know, `for want of a nail, the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe, the horse was lost' and for want of a horse the rider was lost.' you know Ben Franklin, Poor Richard. You could have gotten killed because I slammed your hand in the door."

"Sandburg, you are not responsible for this. The only one who is is dead. He's the  
one who chose to steal those guns. He's the one that pulled the trigger, not you."

"But Jim, "

"No buts, forget it."

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave now, visiting time is over. You can come back  
in a couple of hours." the kindly nurse stuck her head in the cubicle and smiled a sad smile at the two men.

Blair started to turn and walk away but stopped before gaining the doorway. Turning back to face the man he opened his mouth to once again beg forgiveness from the man in the bed only to find that he'd already fallen asleep. Ducking his head he walked slowly out into the hallway. As he walked tears began to form in his eyes and by the time he reached the waiting room they were flowing in a steady  
stream. He didn't know whether it was from pain, guilt, relief or love. He hoped he'd find it in his soul to forgive himself, but he knew it wouldn't come as easy as the forgiveness he'd found in the room down the hall.


End file.
